


again

by dami_an



Series: simple expedient of... [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9439880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dami_an/pseuds/dami_an
Summary: Kasamatsu knows what transpired last night even if it's all blurry, but he doesn't regret it—not even the slightest bit as he runs his fingers along those marks. But what he regrets is that he can't find any sign of Kise everywhere.





	

Their reunion is nothing special. It's simple, normal and quite accidental; things Kasamatsu never associates with when it comes to Kise Ryouta—because Kise is anything but. It happens when Kasamatsu is waiting at airport baggage claim. He doesn't even notice Kise approaching him from behind, too rapt in staring at the carousel until Kise taps his shoulder.

"Senpai?" Kise asks, surprise written on his face before it melts into happiness.

Kasamatsu should be surprised, he really should, but having received one of many Kise's ridiculous expressions brings a neat little frown he's spent ages perfecting without meaning to, coupled expertly with a raised eyebrow. It's a look that says, very clearly, "how is this my life," and Kasamatsu has used it hundreds of times with Kise.

It has never backfired on him this way.

"Senpai," Kise sighs, his grin faltering, almost resigned, "I find it difficult to believe you find me annoying still, even after the years we left behind."

And before Kasamatsu even has a chance to open his mouth Kise is hugging him, swooping in swiftly, like his reflex hasn't depleted despite having left the basketball world for years, like it's been only yesterday Kise stepped in to take revenge on his defeat against Jabberwock.

"But I guess it's okay since I know that you haven't changed much from the last time we saw," Kise says, happiness evident in his tone.

Back then, Kasamatsu would've kicked Kise all the way to the moon before Kise had a chance to close the distance between them. But since there's a large gap of years in their relationship, Kasamatsu finds himself dumbstruck in Kise's embrace. His luggage in a firm hold of his right hand is jostled, bumped by a passerby and run-away carry-ons and his own racing pulse. Kise's pilot uniform smells of airport and airplane and coffee, and it should make Kasamatsu feel uncomfortable.

It feels nostalgic instead.

"Uh," Kasamatsu manages, sobering up when Kise breaks away. Then Kasamatsu allows himself to really see it, to notice Kise's more defined jawlines, to take in those rich honey-colored eyes, darkened over years and experience.

Time does change Kise—except for his endless chattering, obviously, because the next second Kise is asking him, "What brings you here in London, senpai?" with an eager expression and all.

"Work," he answers, relieved that there's some part in Kise he's familiar with still. Kasamatsu can't imagine Kise otherwise.

That doesn't mean he can maintain their eye contact, though. The awkward atmosphere accumulated from the years of separation showed in his short response. But Kise doesn't seem deterred by it. "I see. How long are you going to stay here?"

"A week. More or less."

"That's cool. Have you booked a hotel? If you haven't, you can stay at my place. It's just around here," Kise offers, grinning. "I'd really love to catch up with you, senpai."

That prompts a collection of pictures flashing across Kasatmasu's mind; a picture of them catching up with each other over bottles of beer, a picture of them commenting on their silly picture posted on Twitter and Facebook, a picture of them talking about their present, future, and maybe their past; Kaijou, Strky, Vorpal Sword, Jabberwock—and the Winter Cup, and then his crush on Kise that he's been buried since forever if they were drunk enough.

It seems like a good plan.

Except that he's here for work. So, Kasamatsu says, "Thanks, but no, thanks. My company has booked me a hotel. It was… nice to see you again, Kise."

There's no tad of guilt in Kasamatsu's voice. No apology, either. It's even, just a matter of fact although it sounds too cruel to his own ears that he has to bite back his wince.

And Kise, being his perfectly self, keeps smiling away. He winks and says, "Well, next time then," and then he's walking away, cutting through the crowds with his bag in his right hand, his cap in the other, and Kasamatsu is wondering if he could wash his thickening guilty away with alcohol.

 

…

 

Turns out, there is really a next time.

Kasamatsu has some suspicion that Kise's managed to copy Kuroko's ability somehow because he hasn't noticed Kise's presence until Kise pokes his head into his vision, with a wide smile and all, and Kasamatsu is a second away from bashing the soy sauce into Kise's head before his mind's caught up.

"What the hell," Kasamatsu says, forcing himself to relax before he lowers the sauce into the basket. "Don't scare me like that."

Kise grins, "Fancy meeting you here, senpai."

"Why? Is it a strange concept to see me doing some grocery shopping?" he questions, already moving on to another section. By the way a playful humming drifts from behind, steady, Kasamatsu knows Kise's taken his own initiative to follow him around—just like how he always did back at Kaijou High.

"I might or might not have expected to see you with someone. You know, being a working adult with a stable economy and all," and there's a teasing smile in Kise's voice.

That prompts Kasamatsu turning around with a quizzical look. "Your point?"

"A girlfriend, perhaps?" Kise shrugs. "Better yet, fiancée? Wife?"

"That—" and Kasamatsu cuts himself off, unable to find his words, brain tangled up in embarrassment. While he prides himself on having a stable, quiet life and being a dutiful son to his family, he has no confidence in the relationship department. Talking to the opposite gender seems to be a permanent problem to him. Regardless of how many self-help books he's read or websites he's browsed through, none of them can help him fix his confidence.

That, and his crush on Kise.

"Senpai?"

It snaps Kasamatsu out of his depressing thoughts. Kasamatsu whirls around and stomps away, muttering, "It's none of your business."

"I see," Kise drawls out his words, and they're loaded with amusement. "Say, senpai, do you still have problems talking to women?"

"I told you, it's none of your business—"

But Kise is already at his side. His expression is bordering on macabre, bright and smug and too close by half. "C'mon, senpai, it's been years! You can't be that bad."

Kasamatsu scowls and meets his eyes, which turns out to be a mistake. The mischief sparkling in Kise's eyes is more than a little distracting. In order to cover this, Kasamatsu demands, "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be working somewhere? I heard pilots are a demanding job."

"It's demanding, alright, but I'm still a human, senpai. I do need some rest, you know," Kise pouts, which looks ridiculously good on his supposedly mature face. "And I'm with someone today."

"Who—"

Before Kasamatsu can even finish his question, a woman comes curling her dainty fingers around Kise's arm. The woman is beautiful, too beautiful, Kasamatsu thinks, even without heavy make-up caked up her face. Her long hair flows past her shoulder, framing her oval face perfectly. Her clothes are decent, not too flashy but trendy enough that it gives her an impression of someone's following the trend. And when she smiles, Kise brightens up at that, returning it with a smile of his own.

And seriously— _seriously_ —if Kasamatsu can't kick him (anymore), then someone else had better because this shouldn't be allowed. People you bond over a sport in the high school and then leave forgotten in favor of moving on with your own life shouldn't be able to make you speechless when you see them with their significant other. People you meet in an airport baggage claim and then don't talk to for thirteen months shouldn't be able to exist, let alone make your chest do the things Kasamatsu's chest is doing.

"Ah, and who's this cutie?" she asks.

And then his panic spiral seizes him up. Kasamatsu can't even wrangle a word out of his throat, too embarrassed, too confused, too speechless, but Kise seems to pick up on his predicament because he's answering her question on his behalf, "He's my senpai from my high school. My basketball captain, when I was in the first year."

"Ah, I remember, Ryouta's precious captain," she exclaims happily, inching closer towards Kasamatsu. "Ryouta talks a lot about you, Captain-san."

It doesn't make sense to feel cornered when there's no wall behind Kasamatsu, but essentially, that's what he's experiencing right then. Kise's girlfriend—his confused brain supplies—hasn't made any move to stop her advance, and he's on the verge of passing out already, suffocated by his own nervousness.

"We should get going. I'm pretty sure senpai's got something else to do," Kise says, winking at him from where Kise's girlfriend can't catch it. "See you again, senpai."

And just like that, Kasamatsu is left alone, dumfounded, conflicted, as he watches Kise drag his beautiful girlfriend away.

 

…

 

The third time, he's at a pub drinking himself stupid, and Kise is there to have a taste of the nightlife again after months of traveling across the globe.

Maybe his work has taken a toll on him—workloads, pressure from his boss, evaluation coming in a few days, humiliation from getting rejected by a girl he likes, wild rumors about him being an asexual because he's the only person in the office who hasn't had a girlfriend, or maybe he's plainly missed affection from anyone, or maybe it's just Kise, Kise whom he's been harboring his feelings for, Kise who he wished he could have since the Winter Cup, because he catches himself having a hot making out session with Kise in a dark alley by the time he's in the right frame of mind.

There's alcohol in Kise's mouth, in Kasamatsu's mouth, now. It's sour, almost sharp and vile against his teeth, and there are circles of color bleeding into his vision but Kasamatsu can't bear to close his eyes and blacks out—and perhaps it's just the alcohol talking but he doesn't want Kise to stop, hasn't ever wanted Kise to stop.

"Don't—don't go," he practically sobs and chases after the sour taste in Kise's mouth when they pull away for a breath. He's probably hurting Kise by the way he's clenching Kise's hair, hard, but he doesn't care, he needs this so badly—his touch, his kiss, his everything, just Kise, Kise, Kise.

"Senpai," Kise whispers and that's all to it.

He takes a hissing breath and kisses back because there's a first time for everything, and he hears Kise's rattling gasp and feels more alcohol seeping into his mouth and god—god, he's going to black out like this if he doesn't black out  _from_  this. Kise is making terrible noises and breathing into Kasamatsu's mouth, so unromantic but everything's on fire and all Kasamatsu can think about is not surrendering as his back is pushed up against the dirty wall behind him and his heart stutters but doesn't quite stop and he keeps kissing and kissing and kissing until all he drinks and remembers is Kise's warmth.

When he opens his eyes, it's already morning and he's in his bed. There's convincing evidence of yesterday's event littered around the room; the back of his jacket is dirty from scraping against the wall, the room reeks of alcohol and sex, his half-naked state when he woke up, with only his shirt and blanket as barriers of his dignity, aches in the places where it shouldn't be, and there are suspicious marks on his neck and collar bone and inner thighs.

Kasamatsu knows what transpired last night even if it's all blurry, but he doesn't regret it—not even the slightest bit as he runs his fingers along the marks. But what he regrets is that he can't find any sign of Kise everywhere.

 

…

 

The fourth time, it's a disaster.

No, it isn't a disaster caused by him. Or Kise, or anyone, for that matter. It's a natural disaster, which isn't too bad actually, but enough to force the authorities to put all flights on hold. After sending a text message to his boss to inform him of his current whereabouts, complete with the picture of the information board to chase away any doubts in his boss' mind, Kasamatsu navigates himself through the crowd at the waiting hall of JFK Airport to have a look at the café—he doesn't like coffee, how can people handle its bitterness is beyond him, but the working life is a bitch without caffeine in his system.

There, he finds Kise, still in his pilot uniform, chatting in English with one of the baristas. For some reason, anger flares up in his chest.

Kise perks up once he catches him from the corner of his eye. He pulls himself away from the counter and waves enthusiastically, "Senpai."

"You're such a disgrace," Kasamatsu says, gravely, by way of greeting, before he can even stop himself.

"That's… sudden. Where's the fire?" Kise asks, blinking.

No, he doesn't get affected by Kise's nonchalant response or obliviousness. No, he doesn't get affected by that lonely morning he woke up to after the amazing night he spent together with Kise. No, he doesn't get affected by Kise's one-sided decision to move on after that stupid mistake.

No, it's nothing to do with him at all. He's simply annoyed by Kise's flirtatious tendency even though he's got a girlfriend already. So he tells Kise this, "How dare you flirt with another girl when you have someone waiting for you at home?"

"Pardon me?" Kise blinks again.

"Your girlfriend, asshole, the one I met at the supermarket a year ago," Kasamatsu grits out.

"Ah, that," Kise makes an understanding sound and then laughs out loud before he gestures to the barista to put his order on hold and drags Kasamatsu to the nearest round table. Although he's older between the two, it's obvious that Kise has the upper hand due to their height difference.

"Let me go, you little twat! It's rude to manhandle your senpai like this," Kasamatsu yells, haphazardly flailing his briefcase he has in the other hand in Kise's direction, with no success.

At last, Kise releases him. He smiles, resignedly, "Senpai, you're really adorable, you know that?"

That causes his hackles to rise. Kasamatsu scowls, "The hell you're on this time?"

"Senpai," Kise sighs, taking a seat on the round stool. "She's not my girlfriend."

Kasamatsu stares at him stupidly.

"The girl you met the other day, she's not my girlfriend. She's my sister," Kise says, almost whispers like he's very fond of this—of seeing him get worked up over a misunderstanding. Then he keeps smiling away. As if he's waiting for the realization to sink in. As if he's waiting for Kasamatsu's reaction.

"What," is all Kasamatsu manages once he finds his voice again.

"Yes, senpai, my sister. The eldest one, she doesn't always come home, so you've never had a chance to meet her before."

So, that warm smile…

Oh.

"Oh." And Kasamatsu trails into silence then, too embarrassed to even meet Kise's eyes across the round table. He waits for something to break without even realizing it—a mocking reply from Kise, or a stupid laugh, even, anything from Kise, because Kise is loud and boisterous and offensive and impossible—things he's grown used to back at Kaijou High but it feels so foreign now.

Still, he receives no response from Kise. Unsure of what Kise has on his mind, Kasamatsu continues his silence treatment. After three minutes of silence, Kasamatsu thinks enough is enough and steels his nerves to check if Kise has left his seat already.

Kise is still in his seat, looking straight in the eye. For someone who's two years younger than him, Kise looks so mature, so confidence, so sure of himself, and Kasamatsu feels his cheek warm up under his scrutiny.

"I think you owe me an apology, senpai," Kise starts again.

That snaps him out, "Why should I apologize to you? I'm your senpai, you little twat."

"Senpai, you did say something not nice to me in front of that kind barista," Kise pouts. "Would it kill you to say sorry for accusing me of doing something I don't even do in the first place? Poor that lady, she probably thought it was directed to her."

"Fine," he huffs out, averting his eyes away, "I'm sorry, and I'll tell that to her later, satisfied?"

Kise chuckles. "Insufficient, but I'll gladly accept it. Now, do you mind telling me why you're so grumpy today?"

Kasamatsu gives him a dark look. "You should know by now this is my default mood, especially when I have to deal with you."

"Annoyed, yes. But grumpy? I don't think so. Do you realize there's a big difference between annoyed and grumpy, senpai?" Kise shoots back. When he refuses to answer, Kise carries on—and to Kasamatsu's horror, with a simple demonstration by placing his finger between Kasamatsu's brows, "Here. When you're annoyed, only one or two lines will appear there. When you're grumpy, they're knitted so close like they're bound to be glued together forever."

"You—" he doesn't finish his saying. Instead, Kasamatsu swats the hand away.

"It's true, after all," Kise grins triumphantly, "Wanna tell me about it, senpai?"

"I thought we've established that I got grumpy because I misunderstood you? Look, one apology is all you get, okay?"

"It seems that there's more than a simple misunderstanding," Kise leans in. Now that he's blocking the warm light streaming from the round bulb on the ceiling, half of the shadow plays across his face, menacingly, mischievously. "Say, senpai, does this have or have nothing to do with that night?"

His heart thumps loudly in his chest. Kasamatsu backs away a little, and if his voice is wavering, he chalks it up to Kise invading his privacy bubble, "What the fuck you're talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, senpai."

While he regrets that Kise left him to wake up alone in the morning, regrets that he wished Kise stayed, even, regrets every selfish desire and feeling he's harboring from Kise, Kasamatsu hopes it remains buried down in the back of his mind, hopes that Kise, of all people, doesn't bring up that topic again, because it makes all the pain and frustration and humiliation real.

The pain in the morning after when he discovered he was alone in the room. The humiliation he felt when Kise decided to discard him like a trash.

"I told you, I don't know what you're talking about," Kasamatsu is all but growl, defensiveness thick in his voice.

Kise stares at him for a while, and then for a long moment, probably for the longest silence moment in Kasamatsu's life. Kasamatsu is starting to fidget under his stare before Kise straightens his posture, sighing, "If you say so."

A simple sentence but it contains so much disappointment, the one that Kasamatsu doesn't understand its reason to be there, and yet it almost makes him flinch. He sees a flash of hurt in Kise's honey-colored eyes, and there's a sinking feeling in the bottom of Kasamatsu's stomach.

And then Kise gets up, and that sinking feeling is balling into a knot, hard and cold, almost too painful to bear that Kasamatsu panics. He gets to his feet, too, and grabs a hold of Kise's wrist out of pure reflex, mouth moving but there's no word produced. Apprehension has gathered in his throat, so thick that he can't even say things he wants to say.

Kise has a hopeful look on his face, bright and promising of something in the future.

No, he can't leave it like this. He has so much to tell Kise, so much to say, "Kise—"

An announcement breaks off his saying, loud and clear that it rings around the hall and robs away Kasamatsu's courage, and he's stumped into silence once again.

"Senpai?"

He opens his mouth. Closes it. And grimaces. "It's nothing."

With that little smile that holds disappointment, the one appears only when Kise doesn't want people to know how much in pain he's in, Kise gently pries his fingers around the wrist and says, "It was nice to see you, senpai."

It sounds very much like a goodbye, and it strikes him hard, so hard that he blurts out, "Stay, please."

Kise's eyes widen in surprise at that.

"Stay, please," he says again, eyes dropping to his leather shoes, unable to decide whether he simply doesn't want to be alone in this foreign country or he doesn't want to be alone,  _alone_  anymore. "I, uh, I'm all alone here, and I have no one to talk to and I—please, stay with me."

There's a beat of silence between them while the sounds of people milling about and orders calling out from the bar serve as the background music. Kasamatsu still has his eyes lowered, and he doesn't know if Kise has left, which is probably the best decision Kise could've picked since he's not worthy of Kise's patience at all.

And there's an arm around Kasamatsu while the other is cradling his jaw, urging him to look up and that's it, clashed with the most intense gaze he's ever encountered, the one that's used on the court to learn his opponent's moves, the one's filled with so much concentration and intensity, Kasamatsu's pulse jump.

"Kise—" is all he manages to say before the rest of his words get swallowed by Kise's kiss.

The kiss is painful, full of teeth, and their noses keep bumping, but all discomforts are thrown out the window once Kise sweeps his tongue in. It turns out Kise really has been holding himself back for a very long time, because when he lets out all his pent up emotional, it's like a hurricane, and Kise is kissing him fiercely and there are hands on Kasamatsu's ass—and oh, Kasamatsu is surprisingly okay with that.

"Kise, Kise, Kise," he chants when the kiss finally ends. They're panting a little, breath clouding around their faces, warm and endearing, "Stay, please, with me—"

"Yes, yes, yes," Kise says, winding his arms around Kasamatsu's waist, possessively. "I'll stay, I'll stay with you, for you—but, but not now."

Kasamatsu pulls away and blinks at him, fear crawling up his chest. "What—"

"No, no, no, senpai, not like that," Kise shakes his head frantically. "It's just—that," and he points at the ceiling with an apologetic smile and another announcement chimes in.

Understanding settles in, and Kasamatsu makes a sound, "Ah, I see."

"Yeah, duty call. Sorry about that."

"No, it's okay," Kasamatsu tells him, forcing himself to relax. It doesn't take long for him to calm down now that he has Kise's warmth and scent around him. "Someone's gotta fly that gigantic, wing-y thing, right?"

"It's airplane, senpai. Airplane," Kise chastises him.

Kasamatsu can't help but chuckle at that and fails to notice a look passing over Kise's face that earns Kasamatsu a sweet kiss on the lips. Kasamatsu waits a minute and then throws caution and propriety and common decency to the winds, not really caring about the various reactions around them, and returns the kiss just as sweet.

They kiss until another announcement pipes up. Kise rests his forehead on Kasamatsu's and breathes out, "Until next time, senpai."

This time, Kasamatsu is able to reply back, "Until next time," with a broad smile.

 

…

 

It's been seven months, and Kasamatsu hasn't heard a word from Kise since.

His life is sailing just fine, not too smooth but it's nothing that Kasamatsu can't handle. He still stutters a lot in the mixers, and his boss hasn't promoted him. His work is piling up high on his desk, and his colleagues keep teasing him mercilessly with remarks about his pathetic love life, and it grows worse since Valentine's Day is just around the corner.

By the time Valentine's Day arrives, half of the office is empty. Only the sound of keyboard clicking fills the room. While Kasamatsu appreciates the silence, he feels a little empty inside when his eyes drift over to the empty table diagonally across him.

The day feels way too long for a single man like him. The moment the clock strikes five, he goes straight home, annoyed by the couples pouring into the street, or the special promotions for couples they advertise around as if they're mocking him for being alone on this glorious, romantic day.

With a careful plan on his mind; drink, eat, warm bath, and sleep—not necessarily in that order, Kasamatsu is stepping out of the elevator when he finds someone curled up against the door of his apartment, hands around his middle and half of his face framed by his black cap. Surprised, Kasamatsu slows down his walking to almost a halt.

Instead of feeling alarmed, it brings a smile to Kasamatsu's lips. Even in the distance, he recognizes that posture anywhere, and that blonde hair peeking out of the cap.

Kasamatsu crosses the hallway in a few, long strides, and the man remains in deep sleep, unperturbed by the heavy footfalls of Kasamatsu's shoes. He places his hand on top of the drawn-knee, carefully as not to startle the man, and says, "Kise."

It takes a while for Kise to be awake, but Kasamatsu enjoys watching it, nonetheless. It's like watching a sunrise, he thinks.

Kise rubs at his eyes, all bleary and childish-like, "…senpai?"

"Yeah, it's me."

A smile on Kise's face mirrors his own, if not brighter in a way that only Kise's smile does, "Happy Valentine's Day, senpai."

Screw the plan; he's going to do whatever Kise wants to do with— _to_ —him that night.

 

 


End file.
